If you were to ask me what I remembered, I’d tell you that there was a classroom. At least that’s what I thought it was. Well, I knew it was. Without any thought of how I even got there I simply knew it was a classroom. In this classroom there was a black wooden table that I sat at. It had enough room to hold two and that it did. A young lady sat next to me. She seemed to be a young lady I was very happy with too because I had this feeling in me that all was right in the world. The fact that I was there, sitting behind that black table, in a hazily remembered classroom made me feel all the relief in the world. Why?
She turned to face me and revealed her milky white face and beautifully warm smile. Her eyes were blue and she was a brunette with hair reaching down just past her shoulders. She rested her chin in her hands and continued to smile at me as I noticed her freckles. They gave her quite a sense of personality and I suddenly felt a wave of nostalgia and memories engulf me that I oddly enough knew that I never had. Odd.
Overall, seeing her smiling face was almost a Kodak moment until I somehow-at the last minute-noticed the deep shadows of eyeliner surrounding her optical units. She wore far too much of it and that is why I stress that this moment was simply an almost picture perfect, beautifully memorable, brings-tears--of-artistic glory- to-my-eyes Kodak Moment.
Almost.
Overall, (again), without us even talking I had this feeling that she was important to me. I made a long, and slightly arduous journey to get that seat next to her and the pay off was finally here: me sitting next to her. Despite her horrendously misguided use of eyeliner, I was with her and we were both happy. Would you like to know what happened next? Here’s what happened:
I found myself in a very cramped office sitting in a refreshingly comfortable chair. Across from me was an older woman with a slightly wrinkled face and short dark hair. Her legs were crossed and she held a pen in one hand and a clipboard in the other.
“The operation is scheduled for later today,” she said something to that effect. “Have a look around before we begin.”
I nodded to her in mock understanding.
An operation?
For what?
I have accepted to be a part of some surgical operation that I didn’t even know about?
I couldn’t-well I didn’t-even protest!
Why was I- What was I- Ah now I am standing up and walking away.
Will I ever know the answers to these questions
It was as if I had blinked then for I found myself in a small food court. My sister sat at the opposite side of me with a large plate of French fries, chicken tenders, and a goofy expression on her face. We talked then: her happy and me quite a bit indifferent to the conversation. Maybe I was thinking about the mystery of my operation. I’m not entirely sure.
This fragment came to an end and another began. I stood in what seemed to be a bookstore. I knew it was. In front of me was a vast wall of books and magazines. I was in heaven and I couldn’t be happier as I scanned each spine for familiar material and newer intriguing titles. This was the happiest I had felt. It certainly distracted me from the vague operation looming in the back of my mind.
Seconds later, my sense heightened as a group of adolescents walked into the aisle I was reading in. Without another glance I slammed the book shut, fumbled it into its space on the wall and slowly moved out of the aisle and into another. I didn’t want to be in that aisle with anyone else. I didn’t’ want to be with anyone else. It was as if some crazy spirit of teenage angst had decided to descend into me. I was not happy. I was the complete definition of fearful.
I left the store then and found a moving walkway-you know- the kind that you stand on as it moves you forward at its own languid pace. As I stood there I ran into the doctor from before. She straightened her glasses and stood next to me as we waited to reach the end of the moving walkway.
“Your operation will be occurring soon. There are things you need to know.”
“Like what?” I asked her, still looking ahead.
“Information about it. How your lungs will react, how you’ll be changed, the possible side effects, etc.”
“And you’re telling me this now? I assumed that I would go in and they’d tell ME all the details.”
“That won’t be happening,” we exited the moving walkway and came upon what I thought was the central atrium of the building. There was an administration booth in the middle of it. On the circular side walls were couches. We sat.
“Instead,” she continued. “You’re going to go to The Council and tell them what you know about the procedure.”
“And if I know nothing?”
“You’d better make it a point to know something.”
I turned my eyes away from her and said nothing.
“Also,” she seemed to pay no mind to my rudeness. “We’ll be having a “pre-procedure” before the actually operation commences. Come to my office in 15 minutes so we can prepare.”
I nodded to her and she left. A "pre-procedure" and an opportunity to look absolutely foolish in front of “The Council.” I didn’t even know who this Council was but I was nervous. I had no idea what to expect from this “pre-procedure.” I told myself that fear would be pointless: stress for nothing. I couldn’t help it though. I felt more fearful than I had in a long time. I sat there silently.
“You think it’s a catheter?” My sister laughed at me as she shoved a large plat of French fries and chicken strips into my face.
“Maybe,” I responded.
She and her friends laughed and continued talking about whatever they were talking of. I was back in the food court and feeling quite a bit calmer actually. The whole “pre-procedure,” Council, and operation situations did not seem as daunting anymore. I would just go with it. As I sat there, a smile crept on my face. This wouldn’t be-
…
This, what you just read, was a pretty odd and disjointed story wasn’t it? I thought so, though it makes about as much sense to me as it probably does to you. Why? Because this is a fantasy based on reality.
This is a dream I had a few nights ago.
You see for the past few nights I’ve been having these weird dreams lately. Actually, the most amazing part of the entire series of dreams is the fact that I remember them all in the first place! I haven’t actually remembered any of my dreams for a few months now. Why do you think that possibly is?
I want to say it’s because I’ve been going to sleep a lot later lately but maybe that’s not quite it. I really don’t’ know what it is. And since we’re on the subject, I’ll say that I don’t’ really know very much about dreams at all.
Why were some parts of this dream so fragmented and why did others flow easily?
Why was my sister in it?
Why was the greasy mention of food mentioned twice?
Operation? Older woman? Pre-procedure? Catheter?
Why did I “know” certain things about the scenario without me ever experiencing them?
Why was there a young lady with the eyeliner?
Why was I in a classroom?
Why?
That’s just the question isn’t it? I want to know the “why” of dreams. Hopefully the dissecting of this one plus a bit of external research can yield some answers. I’ll return soon with another post detailing the specifics of my findings.
Do not hesitate to comment if you have any information or opinions to share about dreams or just anything to say about mine. I encourage it! Until next time.
